


been alone before

by samalane



Category: SK8 the Infinity (Anime)
Genre: Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Major Character Injury, Post EP9
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-15 01:55:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29926167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samalane/pseuds/samalane
Summary: “I’m sorry.”“Why?”Kaoru shrugs a little with his good shoulder.“I thought it’d be done.” He admits, quiet. “Thought I’d have closure.”Kojiro snorts. “The only closure I need is the lid on his casket,” he grumbles.—The aftermath and recovery.
Relationships: Nanjo Kojiro | Joe/Sakurayashiki Kaoru | Cherry Blossom
Comments: 9
Kudos: 332





	been alone before

**Author's Note:**

> I know there's been like a dozen of these fics already, but this is purely self-indulgent and entirely for my own comfort after the emotional rollercoaster of ep 9. The medical stuff is one part experience (broken bones) and two parts google search, so please forgive any inaccuracies there. 
> 
> Shoutout to Nele for doing a quick edit. Any remaining mistakes are mine.

It’s closer to morning than night when a nurse finally, _finally_ , stops by to inform them that Kaoru has been placed in an induced coma for the time being, but they can see him for a bit.

Kojiro knows that Kaoru wouldn’t want anyone to see him like this, but Miya has been holding back tears all night and Hiromi is nearly as pale as the ghastly face paint he wears to races. Kojiro doesn’t have the heart to send them off without some sort of closure, not after they had to watch it happen in real time, so he doesn’t say anything when they follow him and the nurse into Kaoru’s room.

He regrets it a little, though, when Miya gasps. He gets it though, it’s shocking to see someone usually so vibrant and full of life laying small and still in a hospital bed, swathed in white bandages. He’s a little shocked himself. He’s patched Kaoru up numerous times over the years, and Kaoru’s done the same for him, but it’s never been this bad. Not for them, anyway.

“I understand you’re his guardian?” the nurse asks. Her name tag says Tanaka. Kojiro nods, watching as Miya and Hiromi creep forward toward the bed, faces drawn tight. “He has some extensive injuries…”

Broken right wrist, broken left leg, multiple fractured ribs, traumatic head injury with a gash so deep it needed stitches, various cuts and abrasions.

“You said he was skateboarding?” she asks, looking down at her chart almost sceptically. Miya had gently reached out to lightly touch Kaoru’s mostly un-injured hand, while Hiromi kept a grounding grip on his shoulder. “And was attacked? And you’re certain you don’t want to file a police report?”

“I’m sure,” Kojiro says, gruff. Except he’s not, because he would very much love to see Shindo taken away in cuffs, even if it means S permanently closing. But realistically, the Shindo family will simply bail him out, and nothing will ever come of it. No point, unless Kaoru wants revenge badly enough. Kojiro doesn’t know what to expect.

“Alright,” the nurse says slowly. “Well, in any case, he’s going to need to stay here for a few days so we can monitor the brain injury. We’ll know more once the swelling goes down.”

“Right,” Kojiro says. Swelling of the brain. _Christ_ , Kaoru. “Can I stay outside of visiting hours?”

“Of course.” She gives him a sympathetic look, one that kind of makes him want to cry. “You’re his legal guardian, and this is a private room.”

“Right, thank you.”

“We’ll be stopping by frequently to check on him and he won’t be waking up anytime soon, so please feel free to go home and get cleaned up.” He’s painfully aware of the blood smeared across his chest and jacket; he’d tried to cover up the worst of it by zipping up the jacket, but apparently it’s not quite enough.

Nurse Tanaka leaves them, then, and Kojiro heaves a sigh, looks back at Miya and Hiromi.

“He’ll be okay,” he says, trying his best to force a bit of optimism in his voice for Miya especially, who looks just as young as he really is. It’s easy to forget with his talent and propensity for sarcasm. “They’re going to keep him here under observation for a few days, but he should be okay.”

“He won’t be able to write,” Miya says, voice small. Kojiro struggles to breath for a moment, the realisation like a punch to the gut.

God, Kaoru is going to be so _angry_ when he realises. He’s going to have to delay a number of commissions. Hell, Kojiro is going to need to do some of the delaying himself, depending on how long Kaoru’s out for.

“The breaks were clean, they should heal well,” he counters, sounding much more confident than he feels. “Give it a few weeks and he’ll be back to work in no time.”

Miya sniffles in response. Hiromi pats his shoulder and shoots Kojiro a look that clearly says _not helping!_

“Miya,” Kojiro says, as gently as he can. “You should let Hiromi take you home now, you need some sleep. We all do,” he adds, as Miya opens his mouth to protest. “And your parents are going to worry when they notice you’re gone.”

Miya takes a deep, shuddering breath, but nods and steps away from the bed.

“Can I come visit tomorrow?” he asks. It’s unlike him to fold so easily, and less like him to ask for permission. Kojiro pats his shoulder and musters up a smile.

“Of course.”

“Alright.” He looks back at Kaoru for a moment, then turns to Hiromi. Poor kid has dark circles under his eyes. “Shadow…”

“I’ll take you home,” Hiromi says immediately. He’s got his arm wrapped around Miya’s shoulders. To Kojiro: “Tomorrow’s a busy day, but I’ll send some flowers over.”

“Thanks.” It’s sweet of him. Kind of both of them, really, to have brought them to the hospital and waited with him. It’d have been worse to be alone. “Really, for everything. Both of you.”

“We’re friends, right?” Hiromi says, smiling a little. “Even if we’re an odd group.”

He’s not sure if friends is the right word, given that half the group is underage. But they do feel like some weird kind of extended family, so Kojiro nods anyway.

“Drive safely,” he says, waving a little as Hiromi guides Miya out of the room. He’s a little worried for Miya—the sheer violence of the attack was a lot for anyone, let alone a middle school student. They might need to keep an eye on him for a bit. Kojiro kind of wishes he could warn Miya’s parents, but that conversation wouldn’t really go over well. Nobody wants to know that their twelve-year-old son is sneaking out to skateboard in an abandoned mine every Friday night.

He sighs again, and turns back to Kaoru.

Fuck.

He slumps down into the chair beside the bed, buries his face in his hands.

He wishes it had been him to race Shindo. Not because he’d have won, but because he could have withstood the attack better than Kaoru. Because he’d never admired Shindo the way Kaoru had, he’d never _liked_ him the way Kaoru had. When Shindo had up and left for America without even a farewell, Kaoru had taken it personally. The years had taken the sting out of that particular hurt, but Kaoru tended to hold grudges, and there’d never been any closure between the three of them.

He’d heal, physically. But Kojiro wasn’t sure how long it would take for him to get over this newest, and hopefully last, betrayal. To have been assaulted mid-race—he hadn’t lost, not really. He might have even won, if Shindo hadn’t turned into a complete maniac. But to have been dismissed in such a humiliating manner, so violently, so fucking _personally_ —

Well. Kojiro wasn’t even sure how he’d handle it—it felt enough like an attack on himself just to see Kaoru laying there unconscious.

One thing’s for sure, he thinks, taking in the the bandages littered across Kaoru’s delicate face. Now he _really_ wants to beat the shit out of Ainosuke.

—

They bring Kaoru out of the coma just a couple days later, when the swelling has gone down enough for them to ascertain that the damage isn’t life-altering. He should be okay, the doctor assures Kojiro, once he’s healed. But it’ll take a while, and he’ll be disoriented and irritable from the pain. He may suffer from depression, given the extent of his injuries and a history of anxiety.

Cranky is normal, Kojiro thinks, spending most of the following days at Kaoru’s bedside, noting the way the dark bruises on Kaoru’s face begin to lighten. He closes the restaurant temporarily, giving his employees paid leave. He manages to convince Carla to let him into Kaoru’s phone, and then he can begin damage control on that end, sending emails out to customers on Kaoru’s behalf.

He can deal with cranky. He can deal with all of it, so long as Kaoru gets better and can hold a brush again. So long as he can get back on a board and skate again.

Although, if he didn’t want to, Kojiro couldn’t really blame him for that.

In the meantime, the hospital room fills with flowers. True to his word, Hiromi sends a large bouquet with a card signed by both himself and his manager. Kojiro has no idea what the flowers mean, but he’s sure they were chosen carefully, so he places them on Kaoru’s bedside table. Miya shows up the next day with Reki and Langa in tow, their spat obviously forgotten, and they also bring a bouquet from Hiromi’s shop. They sit in a row next to Kaoru’s bed, silent and solemn, while Kojiro tries to convince them that Kaoru will be fine. It’s a difficult endeavour, with Kaoru pale and lifeless under the sheets.

Kaoru’s clients send flowers as well, once Kojiro has sent out the emails, until his room is veritably filled with them. Another bouquet from Kojiro’s own parents and his older sister add to the collection.

The only one who doesn’t bring flowers is Kaoru’s mother, who brings food for Kojiro and a beautiful knitted blanket for Kaoru. “I’d been meaning to give it to him for a while now,” she says with a sad smile, settling the blanket over him. Once she’s satisfied, she turns to Kojiro and asks him how he’s been holding up, and promises not to tell Kaoru when he cries into her shoulder a little.

He’s alone, however, when Kaoru actually wakes up. He’s dozing in the comfy chair Nurse Tanaka had brought him when it became clear he was planning on spending most of the foreseeable future by Kaoru’s bedside, but doesn’t notice until Kaoru makes a soft sound, and then the hand he’s been holding slips out of his grasp.

“Where am I?” Kaoru asks hoarsely, slowly bringing his uninjured hand up to cover his eyes. They’re watering, Kojiro notices, so he leans in to try and block some of the sun. And to get a better look at Kaoru, to see him awake for the first time in days.

The relief flooding through his veins is like nothing he’s ever felt before.

“Hospital,” he replies. Kaoru squeezes his eyes shut and looks every inch the person suffering a miserable migraine. Kojiro presses the call button at the side of the bed, as instructed by Nurse Tanaka, and then carefully takes Kaoru’s hand back. Presses a kiss to it. “It’s been a few days,” he says, before Kaoru can even ask.

Kaoru cracks one eye open, lashes clumped together by tears.

“What happened?”

“You don’t remember?” Kaoru grunts, which Kojiro takes as a no. That’s worrying, although within the realm of possibilities the doctor had mentioned. Temporary, hopefully. “Do you know who I am?”

“Of course,” Kaoru snaps, or tries, before choking on the words. His throat is probably dry. “Fucking gorilla.” The words come out strangled, but they’re comforting nonetheless. Kojiro gently helps him lift his head so he can take a few sips of water. He’s just helped him back down when one of the other nurses whose name Kojiro doesn’t know yet arrives.

“Ah, awake?” She asks happily. “Let’s check your vitals, then.”

Kaoru doesn’t say much as she runs through his stats, simply answers the questions he’s asked and admits to a major headache. She administers some painkillers and it doesn’t take long before the crease between his brows smooths out.

“I’ll let the doctor know to come by as soon as he can, and we’ll bring you in for another scan tomorrow,” she says after she’s run through the list of Kaoru’s injuries, this time for his own benefit. Kojiro doesn’t know how much he’s absorbing, what with the way his eyes have glazed over, but he’s memorised it for the both of them. She checks his bandages. “For now, just rest as much as possible. If you need anything, call us.”

It’s silent when she leaves, other than the beeping of the machines.

“How long has it been again?” Kaoru asks after a moment, sounding sleepy. His eyes are slits, and he looks like he’s trying to force himself to stay awake.

“Three days,” Kojiro answers, brushing some hair out of his face, carefully avoiding the bandages. Kaoru’s eyes flutter closed.

“Fuck,” he sighs.

“Yeah,” Kojiro agrees. “Your mom came by, brought a blanket she made for you. She’ll be by later today.”

“Mmmn,” Kaoru says, snuggling down into said blanket.

“The kids came by too, they brought you flowers.”

“ ’S nice,” Kaoru slurs. Kojiro gently runs a thumb over his brow.

“Go to sleep,” he murmurs. Kaoru grunts.

“Restaurant?”

“Closed it for a couple days. Hikaru and Ayumi hope you get better soon.”

“My clients—”

“I’ve contacted everybody who was in your calendar for the next month, and I’ve got your phone with me. Stop fussing and sleep.”

“A month?” Kaoru asks, cracking his eyes open. He’s frowning a little.

“Your arm is broken,” Kojiro reminds him. Kaoru groans and closes his eyes again.

“Fuck.”

“Fuck,” Kojiro agrees. Then, “Go back to sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Better be,” Kaoru mutters, but he turns his face a little into Kojiro’s caress, and then he’s out like a light.

Kojiro sighs, and the tightness in his chest loosens a little for the first time in days.

—

“Temporary amnesia is normal,” the doctor says, shining a light into Kaoru’s eyes, who blinks rapidly. ”Especially concerning the moment of trauma itself. You don’t seem to have any trouble recalling any other information, so that’s a good sign. I’d be surprised if the memories don’t come back, but there’s always a chance they won’t.” He puts the flashlight back in his pocket and then picks up the chart containing Kaoru’s vitals. “Otherwise, you’re doing well for the extent of your injuries. If your scans come back normal tomorrow, we can release you by the end of the week.” He pauses, and glances at Kojiro. “You’re going to need help for a while, though.”

“Right,” Kaoru says. He grimaces at Kojiro, considerably more lucid than earlier. “And how long are the casts on for?”

“Six weeks for both,” the doctor replies swiftly. “You’ll keep the plaster casts for a week, and then we’ll put you in something more permanent after another x-ray. The breaks were clean, especially the ones in your wrist, so they should heal well.”

“Small mercies,” Kaoru says with a tight smile. He’s getting stressed, Kojiro can see it in the lines at the corners of his eyes. Either that or the headache is back, but the nurse had just administered pain killers not even a hour ago.

“You’re lucky to have gotten off this lightly,” the doctor says absently. “Hitting your face at those kinds of speeds, you’re lucky you didn’t need facial surgery. I’ve seen athletes with some pretty horrific injuries.” That’s definitely not something Kaoru needs to hear right now, and it’s certainly not something Kojiro wants to hear. The doctor seems to realise this, as he smiles a little apologetically and returns Kaoru’s chart to the end of the bed. “That said, your wounds will heal well, and with a little physical therapy you’ll be able to write again soon. I’m quite a fan of your work,” he admits, to which Kaoru gives a tight smile.

The doctor takes his leave then, leaving them alone. Kaoru groans and slumps back against the bed.

“Does your head hurt?” Kojiro asks, leaning in. He maintains some sort of distance when there are others in the room, for Kaoru’s sake, but if he had it his way, he’d be snuggled up on the bed with Kaoru at all times.

“Everything hurts,” Kaoru sighs. “But they just gave me meds.” He opens his eyes and fixes them on Kojiro. “Will you please tell me exactly what happened? How am I _this_ fucked up?”

He should have known Kaoru wouldn’t just wait to remember on his own.

“You fell,” he hedges, really not wanting to be the one to break the news. Kaoru rolls his eyes so hard it looks painful.

“Yeah, no shit. But how? _Why_?” He presses. “I haven’t bailed that hard in years.”

Kojiro hesitates, which is entirely unlike him. But he really doesn’t want to be the one to inflict this particular hurt on Kaoru.

“Shindo attacked you,” he says, which Kaoru doesn’t seem to find all that shocking.

“How?”

“What do you mean how?”

“I mean what the hell did he do to me? I know what he’s like to skate with, it wasn’t one of his regular moves.”

Kaoru is pinning him with his bright gaze, and Kojiro has to actively remind himself to breath.

He doesn’t want to do this.

“He hit you with his board.”

Silence.

Kaoru stares at him, a little disbelieving.

“He _what_?!”

“He decked you in the face with his board,” Kojiro admits, a little unnerved by how still Kaoru has gone, but mostly angry remembering the sick crunch of impact. “And you were still going full speed. I’m surprised you still have all your teeth,” he says, aiming for levity but most failing when Kaoru touches his own face.

Kojiro jumps when Kaoru suddenly laughs.

“You’re telling me he hit me with his fucking skateboard? Why? He didn’t want to finish? He didn’t want to lose?”

“I don’t know,” Kojiro replies cautiously, a little unnerved. Kaoru is taking this remarkably well. “I didn’t exactly stop to chat with him, I was more concerned with getting you here.”

“Was it that bad?” Kaoru asks. Kojiro nods.

“It… was bad. Really bad.” He can’t manage much more than that.

“I’m sorry.”

Kojiro looks up then.

“Why?”

Kaoru shrugs a little with his good shoulder. He reaches out, and it takes Kojiro a moment to realise he wants to hold hands. He hurriedly takes Kaoru’s up in his own, fingers cold in his grip.

“I thought it’d be done.” He admits, quiet. “Thought I’d have closure.”

Kojiro snorts.

“The only closure I need is the lid on his casket,” he grumbles, and Kaoru lets out a loud bark of laughter before doubling over.

“Ugh, don’t make me laugh,” he groans. Kojiro rubs his back in apology, and when Kaoru looks back at him, his smile is gentle.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he says, which is basically Kaoru-speak for _I love you_. Kojiro squeezes his hand.

“I’m glad you’re here, too.”

—

Kaoru lasts two more days in the hospital before breaking himself out. Kojiro isn’t exactly surprised when he gets a call from him, demanding to be picked up in a van big enough for his wheelchair, but he is surprised that he managed to escape without anyone stopping him.

“I checked myself out,” Kaoru sniffs. “I didn’t break out like some prisoner.”

“Right,” Joe says, eyeing his familiar looking wheel-chair. He’s not sure what would be worse, whether Kaoru had already drafted plans for an AI wheelchair (presumably—hopefully—in anticipation of old age), or that he had someone on speed-dial to make it.

It shouldn’t come as a surprise, once Kaoru is home and in bed, safely tucked up against Kojiro’s side, that the memories come back then. It makes sense, really, but it doesn’t keep Kojiro from waking up in a panic in the middle of the night, disoriented, when he hears a soft, shuddering breath next to him.

“Kaoru?” He turns over, bracing himself on one arm. Kaoru is awake, tear tracks glistening in the faint light from the window.

“I remember now,” he says. “Hit me with his fucking skateboard. Bastard.” His voice breaks, and Kojiro’s eyes sting.

“I’m sorry,” he says, because it’s the only thing he can think of to say. Kaoru laughs, bitter, and tilts his head to look at him.

“For what? You didn’t do anything.”

“I’m sorry that you have to remember,” Kojiro murmurs. “I wish you didn’t have to.” He swipes a thumb under Kaoru’s eye, but more tears are spilling out, hot.

“I thought he wouldn’t hurt me,” Kaoru admits. “I thought he didn’t want to hurt us, and that was why—” He closes his eyes shut then, and Kojiro can see the way his jaw clenches when his breath hitches.

Thought he didn’t want to hurt them, because they’d been friends, once, and that was why he’d never raced them. It was a reasonable assumption—Adam had never dragged either of them into one of his insane death-matches in the past. Kojiro could almost still believe it, if he hadn’t swung his board at Kaoru with such vitriol, with such disdain. It was the most insulting thing he could have done.

“Fucking asshole,” Kaoru sniffles. “Should have filed a police report, gotten him charged.”

“Like his stupid family wouldn’t bail him out.” Kojiro wipes under Kaoru’s eyes again, futilely. “Hey, don’t cry over him, he’s not worth it.”

“I’m not crying over him!” Kaoru says, voice catching. “I’m crying because I’m angry! Bastard hit me in the face with his fucking skateboard. That’s all I fucking am to him, after everything—” He covers his eyes with his good arm and bites down on his lip.

Kojiro sighs.

“He’s a bastard,” he agrees. “So whatever he thinks of you, or me, or anyone, doesn’t matter.”

“He didn’t even bother finishing the race,” Kaoru whispers from beneath his arm. “I wasn’t even worth that.”

“ _He’s_ not worth this!” Kojiro says hotly. “He’s not worth this, he’s not even worth thinking about! So he didn’t finish the race, whatever, that’s his loss. You’re his loss now. He’s alone now, really alone. But you’re not. You have friends, and family, your career—and me. The way I see it, you’re the one who’s won, not him.”

Kaoru presses his lips together harder against a whimper, and for a moment, Kojiro wonders if he’s maybe made things worse.

“You’re such an idiot,” he says lowly. But he shifts his arm a little, enough that one eye is peeking out at him. “Sap.”

That’s better.

“Do you think I’d go to jail for beating him up?” Kojiro asks. Kaoru’s face is still mostly obscured by his arm, but Kojiro can imagine the raised eyebrow well enough. “Cause I can beat him up for making you cry. It would be my pleasure.”

“God, you’re so stupid,” Kaoru warbles, but he’s reaching out anyway, and Kojiro lets himself be tugged close enough to press their mouths together, tasting salt. He kisses him deeply, brushing away the tears, and then softly, again, and again, until Kaoru is sighing sleepily against his lips.

“Thank you,” he whispers after a while. Kojiro runs his fingers through his soft hair, pushing it back from his face.

“For what?”

“Everything,” Kaoru mumbles. “Being here. Loving me, I don’t know. Just… everything.”

“I do love you,” Kojiro says, drawing away and rearranging the blankets over them. He stretches an arm above Kaoru’s head and gently drapes the other over his waist. “Always will.”

“Me too,” Kaoru sighs. “I do too.”

“I know,” Kojiro murmurs, pressing a kiss to his head. “Sleep, now.”

He does. Kojiro waits until his breaths have turned soft and heavy, before allowing himself to drift off as well.

—

In hindsight, he maybe should have thought to warn the kids that Kaoru had left the hospital early. As it is, he’s down in the restaurant, doing food prep for the evening shift while Kaoru eats a late lunch and chats with Ayumi, who’s prepping the dining area. The only warning he receives is a text from Hiromi, asking “ _Did Cherry leave the hospital already? He’s gone and the kids are freaking out._ ”

He’s just leaving the kitchen to tell Kaoru the kids are freaking, when said kids come barrelling into the restaurant, the chime clanging wildly.

“Cherry is gone!”

“They said he checked out.”

“He was supposed to be there till next week!”

“Did he come here?”

“Did Adam come back to finish him off?!”

“Did you—“

They break off when they finally notice Kaoru sitting at the bar. Ayumi is smiling, confused, but she’s long since gotten used to the way the three of them often invite themselves over during the afternoon break, after school is out. It’s why Kojiro leaves the front door unlocked, after all.

“What are you doing here?!” Reki demands, gesticulating wildly. “You were supposed to be in the hospital until Sunday!”

“I checked out,” Kaoru replies, like he wasn’t still wrapped up in bandages and in a wheelchair. They’d gotten him into a yukata, a clothing preference Kojiro had never been more thankful for—it was certainly the easiest item to put on a person with a cast up to their shoulder and another on his leg—but his face was still bruised and bandaged. He didn’t look like someone who should be out of the hospital, a point Kojiro had been sure to make earlier that morning.

“You checked out?” Miya echoes, looking sceptical. “Are you even allowed to do that?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Kaoru replies, taking another bite of his pasta.

“You look like a mummy,” Langa notes, but slides into the chair beside him. “Joe, is there any left?” he asks, eyeing Kaoru’s food. Reki follows suit, grumbling about being surrounded by insane people.

“I think you should have stayed longer,” Miya grumbles, but slips in beside Reki. “I’m hungry too.” He says to Kojiro, widening his eyes like it’ll help his case.

Like Kojiro hadn’t made extra, just in case.

“I have a perfectly adequate nurse here,” Kaoru tells him, nodding at Kojiro. “I’ll be fine.”

“Adequate?” Kojiro says. “I’m so touched. That might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“I’ve said nice things,” Kaoru protests mildly. “Some of them related to you.”

Ayumi giggles, while the three kids stare at Kojiro for a moment, like they’re really trying to see if he’s a good enough caretaker for Kaoru. He’s honestly never felt more judged in his life, so he takes that moment to leave and grab the brats’ food.

When he returns, Miya and Reki are chatting with Ayumi, who good-naturedly asks them about their skateboarding. Langa has been given the rest of Kaoru’s food and is inhaling it at impressive speeds. Kojiro sets the pot and bowls in front of them—they can serve themselves, since they’re not paying—and turns to Kaoru, who’s watching them with a soft smile.

“So?” he says. Kaoru turns the smile on to Kojiro instead and his heart skips a beat, like he hasn’t seen this smile a thousand times already.

“So?”

“I was right, last night.” He says. Kaoru blinks slowly, before realisation dawns over his features.

“Oh.” He looks back at the group, happily ploughing through the pasta. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“You guess so?”

Kaoru looks back at him and smiles, pretty even with all the bruises and bandages.

“You were right, you ass,” he relents. Kojiro wants to kiss him, but they’re in public, so he settles for squeezing his good hand, quickly, before grabbing his plate to take back to the kitchen. But not before Kaoru squeezes back, averting his gaze. It’s even harder not to kiss the blush rising on his face, but Kojiro manages, somehow.

He’ll be okay. They’ll both be okay; they have one another, after all.


End file.
